


and your lips were stained like cherry pits

by Regarklipop



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, fruit as a wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regarklipop/pseuds/Regarklipop
Summary: It's summer in Kerasous when Yusuf and Nicolò arrive in the city, and the bright morning sun leads them to the markets before they find a place to stay for the time-being.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 16
Kudos: 160





	and your lips were stained like cherry pits

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to call this. I just wanted something with the two of them eating cherries and this is what spiraled out. Joe/Nicky is great because I feel like I can get overly flowery with the language and not be (too) embarrassed about it. Also this fic has such a hilariously different vibe than the last one I wrote I don't know what happened.

It's summer in Kerasous when Yusuf and Nicolò arrive in the city, and the morning sun leads them to the markets before they find a place to stay for the time-being. 

Languages are being passed around like bread at the dinner table, and the calls of merchants echo around until the air is saturated with them. They find bread first, identifying the best baker in the area from experience. The legumes look sad at most of the stalls, a surprise given the season, but the greens and cucumbers all look delicious, and Yusuf is quick to pick up lemons to go with them. 

It is Nicolò who finds the fish, pulled so recently from the sea, and with scales that gleam in the early morning light. The fishmonger is happy to remove the guts to ease the job of cleaning it. They will have to find a place to cook lunch, but they are well served by the food they have bought.

On their way out of the market, Yusuf puts a hand on Nicolò's arm, stopping him in his tracks, his mouth shaping words in a language that Nicolò is still learning but his fingers pointing at the bright red fruits. 

"Le ciliegie?" Nicky mutters, already moving towards the stall. He can sense Yusuf's excitement next to him but knows that neither of them will buy the fruit if it is anything less than excellent. 

They are in luck. The fruit is at the height of its season, and the merchant encourages both of them to try one. The happiness on Yusuf's face is enough to ensure that Nicolò won't barter the price if it means the man gets as many cherries as he wants. He's lucky though. Yusuf, a merchant in the life he had a lifetime ago, takes over, right away finding a language that the merchant shares as he begins the bargaining process.

The merchant, Nicolò thinks, is at a disadvantage. Who could refuse the warmth and excitement that guilds Yusuf like the sun?

They walk away with more cherries than they can likely eat, for a price that should have bought them a quarter of the amount. 

*

They end up wandering a bit before finding a small inn that looks out over the beach and has a fire they can use in the small yard behind the building. There's tree cover, and the owner, a woman named Anthoula, waves the small fee for using her spices and salt to get their meal ready when they guarantee her a healthy plate of her own.

Nicky begins by cleaning the fish, his knife pulling off scales and cutting the fins away. Yusuf’s careful hands have gathered wood and begun to encourage the banked cooking fire back to life. The backyard soon fills with the smell of wood smoke layered over the salt of the sea. The owner of the inn comes out to sit with them, and Yusuf takes the large iron skillet from her arms to lift it onto the grate above the fire. 

She cackles when Yusuf bats Nicolò away from the fish after he's finished rinsing and patting it dry, directing him to begin washing and cutting the cucumbers and greens. She and Yusuf chat, and Nicolò picks up most of what they're talking about: her family, how this is where she grew up and she has only been across the sea once, but her father had come here all the way from Hellas. Yusuf tells her a story of how he had met Nicolò. It's not completely true, but it’s true enough.

Anthoula and Yusuf spend ten minutes playfully arguing over the best way to prepare the fish, and Nicky is suddenly glad to have been put in charge of the vegetables. His attitude changes when the decision is made to cook the fish Anthoula's way and she immediately turns on Nicolò. 

"Salt some of the cucumber, I'll get some other things and we can do them a couple of different ways," she makes her way back to the inn and Nicolò can see the grin that is on Yusuf's face from where he is standing over the fire. 

"Something you would like to say?" he asks as his knife cleaves through the greens easily.

“Not at all. It’s nice to know that being bullied about food by older women is a universal experience,” Nicolò snorts.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard as big an argument as when my family would all come together for Pasqua and argue about how the cavagnetti should be made. My grandmother told my mother that she might as well lay bricks with how harsh she was with the dough,” Yusuf’s smile widens, but grief sits in the corners.

“My mother had one man that she would go to for certain ingredients in the market. The day that my oldest sister said that his produce wasn’t that good, and that she’d been going to someone else, my mum started acting as though my sister had passed on into the after-life,” Nicolò laughs.

“Any arguments over bread?” The groan that Yusuf releases is telling. 

Their host bustles back out of the inn with a basket of various things, immediately smacking Nicolò’s hands away from the greens and complaining that he was going to turn them into grains of sand if he cut them any smaller. 

“I can’t believe I have two handsome men here helping me cook,” she says, despite Nicolò being banned from helping with anything now. Anthoula seems to recognise that she’s sent him off and immediately tells him that he isn’t getting out of the work he’s started.

“Madonna, please guide my hand,” he says to her as solemnly as he can. Yusuf and her both laugh, and she reaches up and pats his cheek. 

“Good man. Help me with some of these jars, they’re heavy and you’re young and strong.”

Between the three of them, they pull together a feast. The table laden down with the fish and cucumber dishes and greens with lemon, and fresh bread. Yusuf says Du’a, and Nicolò and Anthoula say Grace and they tuck in.

The food is delicious and the company is wonderful. When the meal is finished and end of meal Words have been said, the warmth of the summer afternoon takes over, and their lazy conversation is a pleasure. 

*

Yusuf and Nicolò finally manage to outmaneuver Anthoula by moving faster than she can, spending half an hour putting things away, cleaning, and washing dishes before Yusuf prays. She graciously backs down but stays outside to converse with them while they ensure everything is spotless and the fire is properly banked. When she finally says that it’s starting to get too cold for her, they carefully wash some cherries and send her inside with a bowl of them.

Their room is ready, but the sunset is beautiful, and there is a tree near enough to the fire that the heat from the brick will keep them warm while they lean against it. Nicolò washes more cherries as Yusuf prays and leaves them in a dish between his and Yusuf's legs when the man sits down with him, watching with pleasure as Yusuf’s fingers pluck the top one. 

There is, Nicolò thinks, an intimacy he cannot put into words as he watches the pleasure on Yusuf’s face unfold, his fingertips taking on the colour of the cherry when he pulls them in half, plucking out the pit and pressing the fruit into his mouth. Perhaps Nicolò is just dreaming it. 

His heart starts to beat faster as he watches the juice from the fruit and the dye from Yusuf’s fingertips stain Yusuf’s mouth dark pink. When the other man looks up at him while he’s picking his way through the cherries, Nicolò finds himself frozen in place. 

He has felt this feeling for twenty years, and only now does he recognise it as yearning. 

Yusuf extends a cherry to him and tells him that he’d hate to eat all of them himself, and Nicolò’s hand moves to his as though it is passing down into a bag of dried rice.

_I would cup your face and stain my mouth with yours, and may you take my fingertips and dye them pink_

He takes the cherry, repeating the same movement as Yusuf, and humming in pleasure as the sweetness coats his mouth. May the Madonna help him though, his eyes cannot be pulled from Yusuf’s lips. 

“I would not object,” Yusuf says, and when Nicolò’s eyes flick up, he finds Yusuf’s intent on him.

“I would be happy. If you did what you were thinking," Yusuf whispers, and Nicolò can only hope the are thinking the same thing.

Yusuf’s hand takes his, his other hand moving the bowl out of the way. Nicolò’s heart is a tight fist, but his hand reaches up to hold Yusuf’s face, gentle and uncertain.

When they kiss, it is more than Nicolò could have hoped for, the tartness of summertime cherries and the feeling of Yusuf’s beard. Nicolò feels that this must be what the first humans felt like in the Garden, as that is the only metaphor he can find to explain the contentment he experiences in this small yard overlooking the sea. 

They stop at one kiss, but Yusuf’s hand does not leave his for some time. 

*

The next morning it is with dismay that they say goodbye to Anthoula, who tuts at the two of them and tells them that she was fine prior to them and that she will be fine after they leave, but if they wish to return at some point she would appreciate it. She then presses a bag of hazelnuts into their hands and sends them on their way.

They’d gifted many of the leftover cherries to Anthoula, but Yusuf and Nicolò had kept some of them in a small wooden box tucked at the top of Yusuf’s pack in the hopes that it will keep them mostly intact. 

They end up eating the cherries throughout the day instead of saving them, however, with Nicolò pressing most of them into Yusuf’s hands, all for the excuse to kiss him and taste his lips again.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on tumblr @centurydependent. Comments always appreciated.


End file.
